


The Trevor Project

by scorpio_15



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpio_15/pseuds/scorpio_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam goes plant shopping and balances karma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trevor Project

**Author's Note:**

> This little ficlet came from my heart after reading a few recent Adam interviews, one where he talks about going shopping for a plant, and several where he talks about feeling like an outsider in the recording industry at times and also about being a positive role model.

As cool as his fans think he is, Adam isn’t sure he’s cool enough to go plant shopping at the same place as George Clooney does. 

Adam is standing behind potted tree, biting at a hangnail on his pinky. He’s not hiding; of course he’s not. He’s just…observing, and wondering how good ole George keeps winning those sexiest man alive polls. Okay, sure, he’s got that rugged good look thing going, but how can a man with such thin lips be thought of as sexy?

“Sir? Can I help you?”

He starts, turns around and sees a man wearing a green staff apron.

“Adam Lambert!” The man sounds utterly delighted.

“Yes, hi,” Adam says, accepting the outstretched hand and shaking it.

“Well this is treat indeed, just my lucky day. My name is Shawn. What can I do for you?”

“I, uh, well I need some plants.” He mentally groans at himself. So not as cool as Clooney, who, Adam sees, is now sipping on a latte. Where did he get a latte? Adam wants one, too.

“Yes, of course, what kind are you looking for?” Shawn leads him into a large greenhouse, and he’s got his chest thrust out and is beaming at everyone around him. He really looks like he’s having the time of his life. “We’ve got anything you could possibly want, indoor plants, outdoor…”

“Outdoor, for my balcony.”

Shawn smiles and brings him to a different section of the nursery. “Many of these make wonderful balcony plants. Why don’t you take a few minutes to peruse them? Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, water?”

“A latte?” Adam asks, trying to sound like he does this kind of thing everyday. If he were in a clothing shop or at a spa it’d be different. Coffee service in a nursery is kind of weird.

Shawn doesn’t think it’s weird at all. “Coming right up,” he says, and trots off. 

Adam peruses, trailing his fingers over a leaf here and there. _I can get anything I want. I live alone now, and I don’t have to run anything by anyone._ The thought jangles his heart a little, but he presses on. It’s better this way. He’s not trying to convince himself; it really is better. He stops near a beautiful plant and smiles.

“Look at you,” he says to it, and doesn’t care that he’s talking to foliage. It has green, white and purple leaves with delicate flowers. He reads the tag, “Barleria Obtusa Purple Gem. Hey, you’re a gem.” And that’s just about perfect.

“A wonderful choice,” says Shawn. He’s back with the latte. No to-go cups for Adam Lambert and George Clooney. They get glass cups, and there’s even an elaborate cinnamon design on top of the foam.

“Is it easy to take care of?” Adam asks after taking a sip.

Shawn says that all it needs is a good long drink once a week.

_Me, too,_ Adam thinks. Maybe he’ll get one tonight, in fact. Maybe he’ll even find someone pretty to kiss. “Can you save it for me? I’d like to walk around a bit and enjoy the scenery.”

“Of course. Take your time, and don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

Adam says thank you and wanders off. It’s limbo, this place he’s in. He’s at the table right next to the cool kids’ table, just a few feet away. Other kids want to be liked by him, think he’s artsy and unique. They ask his opinion on things and get mad if someone makes fun of him. They have no idea the battle he fights, wanting to be popular and yet proud of being a nonconformist. Radio stations won’t play his songs, but he gets celebrity treatment at a high-end garden store. So yeah, limbo, every damn day.

He’s halfway through his latte when he hears a woman start lecturing her son. The boy looks to be about fourteen. “Stop touching the plants,” says the woman. “Honestly why do you even care what kind I get?”

“I want something pretty for my room.”

At this, she snorts loudly and rolls her eyes. “Boys don’t care about things like—stop touching them!”

The boy yanks his hand away from a purple flower and frowns, kicking his foot the way Adam remembers doing when he was that age and pouting about something. Adam frowns, too, but he doesn’t want to interfere, so he just edges closer in hopes that he can catch his eye and give him a smile. The gods of karma must be watching, because he gets to do something even better than that. When their eyes do meet, the boy’s go saucer wide.

“Oh my god, it’s you, it’s really…I can’t…” His hands start shaking and his eyes change from wide to soft and glassy.

Adam grins at him, and then, when the woman sees who it is and starts gushing and asks for an autograph, he obliges her. But his people skills and ability to sense certain things is near magical according to his friends, and so he turns to the boy as soon he can and says, “Hi. I’m here checking out plants, too. I’m getting something pretty for my balcony. Which one is your favorite?”

“It’s…on the other side,” he says, pointing with a trembling finger across two aisles of plants.

“Why don’t you show me? If that’s alright with your mother, of course.”

“Oh yes,” she says immediately, although she’s clearly wondering if he’s lost his mind by asking such a thing. Adam doesn’t care.

“We’ll be right over there,” he says to her and then asks the boy, “What’s your name?”

“Trevor.”

“Great name.”

“Thanks.” As they walk, Trevor looks up at Adam quickly and then looks at his feet. “Are you really buying plants?” he asks in a stage whisper, as if he’s worried his mom might hear.

“Yes I am,” says Adam, also whispering, “I think it’s okay for men and boys to like pretty things.”

Trevor nods vehemently. “Me, too,” and then, “there it is. Someone already bought it but…”

Adam can’t believe his luck. He removes the ‘SOLD’ sign that’s sitting in front of his plant. “I was going to buy it, but you should have it instead, and it’s on me.”

“You? This exact one? I…” Trevor brings his hands to his mouth and stares at Adam. Then, in the quietest voice possible, he says, “I want to be like you. I mean…I am, I mean…”

It’s heartbreaking and wonderful at the same time. “You are like me,” says Adam, gently, “and you’re like you, too.”

“Yes,” says Trevor, but he’s hiding his face in his hands now.

“Hey, look at me for a minute.”

Trevor takes his hands away and Adam sees that he’s blushing bright red.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re as perfect as this plant.” 

The hope that springs to Trevor's young face is so precious it makes Adam tear up a little. 

The boy takes a deep breath. “Can I really have this?”

“Yes.”

“Will you sign the pot?”

Adam smiles, nods and pulls a Sharpie from his pocket. It pays to be prepared. He stoops down to the plant and writes: 

To Trevor,  
It gets better.   
Your friend, Adam

He signs his name under that. The boy sniffles but Adam pretends not to hear. He sees Shawn and waves him over. “No one is bothering me,” he says when Shawn looks like he’s about to apologize. “Can you bring me something to wrap around the pot? Paper or foil or…”

“Something green,” says Trevor.

“Something green,” Adam repeats to Shawn.

When the pot is wrapped, Adam pays for it, hands it to Trevor and they walk back to where his mom is waiting. 

“It’s a gift,” he explains. “For being such a great fan.”

Her confused expression clears and she grins. “He’s got all of your albums and even stuff from before American Idol. Sometimes I hear him singing your songs in the shower.”

“Mom,” Trevor whines, but Adam just chuckles.

“I sing in the shower, too. Sometimes I even sing to my plants.”

Trevor smiles, and it goes from something small to an all out beam that takes up his whole face.

Adam decides then and there that he doesn’t care about radio play as much as he cares about Trevor’s smile.

 


End file.
